Birds of a Feather
by JJBluebell
Summary: They say misery loves company, well so does madness! He saw her and new she could quickly become his favorite toy. She was the definition of irony, the face of an angel, a childlike air, even as the blood dripped from her fingers and those around her begged for mercy. They were just playing a game, with life, with death, with each other...if only they'd known. Moriarty/OC
1. Chapter 1

It had all happened without warning or thought; he had never expected it would all lead to this.

After all, he never expected much from people…

James Moriarty aka 'Jim' was sat in one of the more extravagant London restaurants wearing a chocolate and cream blushed suit while enjoying a meal with one of his few close contacts, making arrangements for the Shan and her Black Lotus buddies to get into the country to sort their own mess.

The dark haired mastermind let out a bored sigh as he sipped tersely at the cherry tinted wine probably worth more than Wayne Rooney. Those big black eyes casting a glance to the ordinary people gathered around him, gauging themselves with their normal every day little problems and their mundane apple pie lives

BORING!

Then he saw it, a frail leather glove bound hand slipping a pair of red lacy knickers into the pocket of a man toasting his twentieth wedding anniversary, moving on to stealthy snag the silver charm bracelet of the wrist of the fat woman lined in fur and jewels, dripping cynicism for every spectator. Only for the thief to unlock a single charm then lazily drop the bulk of the bracelet in a glass of Champaign on a passing tray with little interest.

He watched with a crane of his neck as the figure slips by and to the bar, almost gliding as she looks into the mirror to watch the mayhem she had planted unfold; the doting wife striking her 'cheating' husband, the over fed cow going berserk about how some waiter had stolen from her.

Without warning a waitress who had flirted shamelessly and stuck her plastic breasts in Jim's face screams from the far side of the room, her hands smeared with crimson and face flushed with tears, motioning to the ladies room where a very messy body was no daunt losing the restaurant its precious stars as we speak

He looked from the dramatic scene to the reflection of the mystery woman, hair cut into a sharp red bob, her brown eyes concealed by the thick lenses adoring her makeup splattered face and a wisp of a smile on pulling on the corners of her lips. She had the decorous seating of a lady, back straight as steal, shoulders firm, chin high and ankles crossed tenderly, pushed back under the seat. She was dawned in a timeless burgundy dress and matching tights, a sunflower yellow cardigan paired with oxford heals and a designer satchel.

He saw all this and instantly knew it was a lie. Camouflage… and a well perfected one at that.

As the manager began to calm the bedlam Jim watches the girl stand to leave. Drifting away with grace through the crowd

So with the mild amusement she had provided he made the decision to follow, leaving his contact with a wink and a smile "Thanks for dinner darling"

After all she had been the most interesting thing to happen that day and he was bored

He casually followed those legs for two streets so far with a watchful eye. She picked pockets only to pass them into others, the same with jewelry. However he lost sight of her for a moment, just a moment…

Then without warning he is pulled into the dankness of a dark back ally, a blood stained blade at his throat, a hairs breath from nicking the skin, as a perfectly practiced London voice seethes "Why are you following me?"

He watches her, the caramel shear rested against her eye slipping just slightly to expose a speck of shimmering blue, before breaking out into a fit of giggles "oh my, we are observant aren't we!"

He'd expected some snappy come back, a threat, but instead she looked at him with a tilt of her head, before lowering the blade from his throat and inspects at the suit, smiling as she speaks "Westwood right?"

Jim stands, righting his suit with an almost impressed smile "good eye, love the shoes. Prada?"

"Charlotte Olympia" she lifts her leg slightly to show of the brightly colored shoes with a smile while Jim curses himself for the mistake

He suddenly notices how short she is, he'd bet barely over five feet without those heels but she was curvy, no, wrong word, voluptuous fits better. Her skin, that he could just see under the tanning makeup, reminded him of untouched snow; just waiting to be ran through and tainted. Not society's image of beauty, but she was a picture… despite the disguise "how rude of me, Jim Moriarty"

She stands, twiddling the knife in her hands before asking "hello Jim, going to answer my question?"

With his hands thrust deep into his pockets he sighs "I was bored, you seemed…entertaining"

She watches him, almost thoughtful before sliding the blade back into the heavy duty purse "oh, well then … goodnight Jim"

"That's it? No threating? How do you know I won't just follow you again" he calls as she starts to toe her way out of the ally

Turning back she beams at him, staring into those big brown eyes almost marching on black "oh Jimmy-boy, your way to cute to kill and what fun would it be if you didn't… see you around"

"Not if I see you first" He calls in a sing-song voice, standing with a smile as she backs out of the dankness and into the flooding light of the street.

He'd noticed how her accent slipped, how she'd bounced on the balls of her feet while they spoke, when she let out a small giggle without looking back at his need to have the last word.

But more important than that he had seen the tattoo on her wrist as she'd threatened him. A perfectly inked grey cartoonish rabbit looking up to three small stars; it appeared like a picture in a children's book.

Jim knew the mark and he knew without a shred of doubt that he had just met 'The Jackrabbit'

Well, this could be interesting.

When she finally got home she gave a sigh of relief as 'Barbie Girl' bounced off the walls and she kicked off her heels. Dancing through the flat with the beat of the music as she quickly strips of the persona she'd painstakingly created.

Putting the clothes in the washing basket and then prancing over to the dresser to scrub her face of the layered makeup, removing the contacts and placing them in their container, then carefully removing the lovingly treated crimson bob and setting it with a very of cared for wigs.

The girl that bounces on her bed with a can of coke and cheesy puffs in hand is not someone you'd mistake for the woman that entered this flat. This girl in black sweats and a batman t-shirt snuggled into a pink fluffy bunny as she swigs at her drink while opening her pink covered laptop, her long curls flowing down her back like a chocolate fountain with sparkling blue eyes.

Lost was the edict she had displayed as she sat slouched and cross legged on the rose patterned sheets typing as she thinks openly, her London inflection demolished for a northern drawl with each brush of the keys "Jim…Moriarty."


	2. Chapter 2

_June 12__th__1999- _

_Sat in the half flagged back garden of 42 Moorgate Street, Liverpool, a small brown flaking painted house with no front yard and damp in the kitchen, is a small girl playing in the overgrown greenery with a mass of Barbie dolls. She's content and merry until a familiar hand reaches over and snatches the plastic toy from her hand "Kathrin!"_

_She snaps up with a glare to the other child, who pays her no mind as she brushes the hair of the doll and smile, a smile she'd stolen "it's my doll, Kaitlin."_

"_No its mine!" she screams, standing to her feet and pushing the girl to the ground before snatching the doll back from the girl now crying in the mud, her new dress ruined_

"_Daddy!" Kathrin screams causing every bone in her sister's body frozen as the brawling man bounces out, thick glasses resting on his drinker's nose, the stale stench of cider seeping from every pour _

_His blue eyes scream rage as he races to grip the tender shoulders of his daughter with fear in her eyes "what have I told you? Little shit!"_

_Kathrin smiles maliciously through her tears as the ferocious man drags his daughter through the yard "Daddy, no I … Mummy!" _

_With horror and fear a short woman with brown eyes and fair skin, hair falling down her shoulders as she grips her husband's arm pleading "David no, Leave her alone!"_

_He has no regard for her cries as his hand swings back, smacking her brutally to the ground "shut up Lana!"_

"_Daddy, no, I'll be good, I'll be good!" Kaitlin screams as he opens the door of the shed and mercilessly throws her inside and padlocks the door, securing the key in his pocket before slapping the door to stop her banging_

_He steps over his sobbing wife with a raging purple jaw and tends to Kathrin with a compassion he held only for her, his princess_

"_I'm sorry, baby, I'm so sorry…" her mum, crawling to sit beside the slither of a window, refusing to leave her child to suffer alone_

_As David lovingly picks up his little girl Kathrin looks to the sobbing girl in the window, the girl with her face and with a smirk sticks out her tongue… leaving her mother and twin sister to bleed_

July 28th 2010-

She was frustrated; patience is not a virtue she held in high regard so when the second week had passed with so little information she was pissed, could you blame her.

She'd herd whispers of the name Moriarty, but no one had actually told her anything.

So she made arrangements to meet up with a repeat client Harry Stanley, who was far too pretty and had more hair product than she did, with a thick cockney tilt and thinks himself a gangster. He is in a way; he was building slowly from the street pusher he started out as anyway.

Walking into a small café a girl with bleached blonde hair, backcombed within an inch of its life, a green juicy tracksuit in matching stilettos and with an extra swagger of those curvaceous hips

"Bunny, over here!" calls Harry with those sweet grey eyes over to the blonde girl he'd come to know as a reliable mark.

You don't get a reputation by messing up

She struts over to him like the undiscovered wag she'd led him to believe she was. They kiss cheeks as she sits and pops the Juicy chewy with Manchurian twang "Alright Harry, babes"

"Am good Bunny, am good, bit of a thorn in my side though, how's tricks?" he smiles sipping at his coffee while leaning back in a low white v-neck

The girl he called Bunny sat teasing the caramel latte, now the brunette girl underneath the chav hated anything coffee, but the blonde strumpet liked it "Never better babes. Let's get on yeah; I'm getting me nails done in half hour"

He nods and smiles, handing her a photograph of a scruffy bearded man with bald head, she'd seen him with Harry before, was a bookie or something, there's an address and a time on the back "the details alright for you?"

She smiles, chewing like a cow "no prob's. Got what I want?"

She slides the picture into her bra as he leans in, grey eyes staring into green orbs as he warns sincerely "Bunny listen, this Moriarty guy is big business, big scary shit… I don't think you want in on that"

She traces his hand with her sparkly press-on nails "Harry, babes, am a big girl"

She's more than aware of his little crush, but considering she's the one he hired to knock off his last girlfriend she never acted on it. Besides he's an idiot

Hesitantly he sighs, looking to the surrounding people as he all but whispers "Moriarty is a consulting criminal, he's the fella bosses go to when their fucked basically, sorts them out, but from what I've heard the lads a nutter!"

A small smile creeps to her face as she nods "How do I find him?"

"look, Bunny, if you've got a problem let me help coz' this fella…ah" he stops with a pained yelp as those pretty press-ons bite into the skin

That picturesque now hard as stone "How…"

It's not a question, it's an order "Fuck, Bunny! I don't know, he finds people I don't fucking know how!"

Standing she snarls angrily, not looking back to see the blood dripping onto the table because now she could find him instead of feeling his eyes on her at every turn without action.

She really hated waiting

Meanwhile Jim sat in his perfectly crafted penthouse, so much better than those stuffy capping trips his dad used to make him go on. He'd spent all the last two weeks digging, watching, never let it known that Jim Moriarty didn't do his research.

She'd killed three people in the past week, one of which she had actually skinned for information… then just to hear him scream.

So far he knew she got her nickname the Jackrabbit by racing off before anyone could even think about catching her, that along with her pretty little tattoo and her appearance. It was a known fact the jackrabbit was a woman but everyone who'd ever claimed to have met her gave outstandingly different descriptions.

She'd appeared several years ago out of thin air after blackmailing a Member of Parliament by exposing with his affair, he stopped paying and the next day the video was viral, his wife was distraught…and his boyfriend wasn't too happy either… so when the parliament member turned up with a slit throat, his mouth sliced open to make a smile with his eyes crossed out there were a number of suspects

He'd had eyes watching her, he'd seen the head haired woman go into a posh looking flat, but never came back out. His desk was now scattered in pictures of every woman who came and went.

She was a hired killer, exploiter who was known for enjoying her work and her bad temper. He could use someone like that since Sebastian was put away, careless boy

Other than her flat he didn't know much about her, she covered her tracks well, she was clever and if there's one thing Jim like's its clever

So naturally he did the only thing he could do, ordered a car so he could go snooping while she was out. Everyone loves a good snoop

Scarlet Gardens, a white washed apartment complex with an ignorant receptionist too busy on her phone to be of any use

Thankfully there was a little old man talking up the man who lived in the flat across to one of Jim's guards "well we don't see him mind, but busy boy he is! Girls coming in and out all the time, reminds me of my younger days…"

Jim acts interested with a fold of his arms "Oh really, so this Casanova lives across from you in…?"

"6C but I…" Jim doesn't stick around to listen, instead pulling out his precious blackberry and twiddling away.

The guard he called Jerry, because he could never remember his name, knelt picking the lock while Jim typed away until a loud click echoes through the hall. The goon stands while Jim makes his way in "oh, be a lamb and wait outside will you boys"

As the door close's he jumps slightly as 'Dancing Queen' blears from the motion detector rigged stereo facing him across the room soaked in blood and ebony.

Jim laughed with a clap of his hands at the song as he takes in the surroundings. A terrace window shining light onto the treadmill beside a crimson couch with black sequin cushions and a matching chair facing the forty inch flat screen, hah, his was fifty!

He noticed a large convince hanging on the wall of two small children on a mountain of what seemed to be guns. He recognized it as something from a street artist, Bugsy maybe? It sat beside a large built in shelf holing a collection of dvd's, from Disney to Horror

He dances over to the matching kitchen and opens the fridge, nearly recoiling at the lack of actual food. Oh it's far from empty, but packed with junk food and fizzy dinks causing him to raise a brow before walking into the small hallway, finding a door on either side.

With a finger to his chin Jim hums before pointing "eeny-meeny-miney-mo…"

His finger landing on the white door to the left, whistling to himself as he gently turns the knob "my, my… no place like home indeed"

He giggles merrily to the glittering yellow brick floor and emerald shined walls, a red robe and slippers hung up by the jocose tub, he walks over to the mirrored medicine cabinet, casually throwing painkillers and what have you over his shoulder before working out "boring…"

As Jim opens the other door, beginning to sense a theme with the feather walls painted with a red castle in the distance of a vast kingdom with large flowers and a smile without a head, a strange little tea party painted near the door he'd passed through. The floor a crimson painted oak with a large canopy bed laced with fairy lights and with a worn plush pink rabbit sat centered between the rose patterned sheets. A large dollhouse sat proudly in the left corner with a TV mounted on the wall.

But something was missing; something an ordinary person would miss. Luckily Jim Moriarty is far from ordinary.

Jim skips over to the large canvas of a rabbit applying makeup in a vanity mirror, the canvas from floor to ceiling. With just a light push the canvas slides along with ease to reveal a walk in wardrobe "down the rabbit hole we go…"

He walks into the room, her sanctuary to find outfits paired with wings on hangers an armoire of weaponry from a Barrett .50cal rifle all the way down to a Buck PakLite Skinner knife. She had very and skill.

The Jackrabbit was known for her various methods of destroying and disaster. She didn't have a trademark as such, more of a 'why not?' attitude. She liked getting her hands dirty, unlike her guest

Jim looks over to the large vanity mirror, something catching his scrutinizing black orbs. Nimble fingers slipping a picture from the frame of the mirror with an almost thoughtful look as he flips it to read the scribbled hand writing on the back "well someone's a nosey nelly"

Slowly he turns to see a blonde in a tracksuit "I liked you better as a redhead"

She laughs with a shrug, falling into her London tone flawlessly "me to, but needs must. You found me, I'm impressed. Did you go through my underwear draw yet?"

"Not yet, anything interesting in there?" he asks, setting the creased picture down

As he steps out she smiles, kicking off the dreadful heels and answers while kicking them across the room "oh all sorts of treats"

Jim walks over to her with a bounce in her step and a cocky grin "oh naughty girl. Love the décor by the way"

She walks past him, brushing close as she speaks "I like fairytale's"

"Boring…" Jim sighs with a roll of those black eyes before watching her gently shake put her chocolate curls from the vanilla coating

She walks back out giggling; now wearing pink gym shorts and a flash t-shirt "Not like that silly bean. I never really watch the endings, they make no sense. The hero is just so predictable, following all those little rules, while the villain destroys them only to lose to some pansy? I think I'm the only one who actually wanted Voldemort to kill Harry"

"That boy was would be long dead if Voldemort had played a better game… you can lose the accent now" he muses as they make their way back into the living room. The brunette stops dead, looking in the eye with her opal green contacts still hiding glittering azure before smiling and jumping up onto the kitchen counter, letting her scouse tongue break free "you are clever. I like that"

Jim leans forward on the island beside her; some would say to close for people who've only met once "oh I know kitten. I'm the big… bad…wolf and I'm in need of someone to take care of some pesky grandmothers. Interested?"

His hands have found their way to rest either side of her small huddled frame; it looked almost threatening until she giggles "don't forget the woodcutters. Oh Jimmy-boy, you are so cute. What do I get?"

A Cheshire cat smile creeps through on his face "you get to play my game… and win"

Her head cocks to the side, one of the tinted shears falling as she looks up pretending to think it over while tapping her fingers to her lips "ooh a challenge. I really like winning…"

Without warning her arms flung around his shoulders "I don't really play well with others but…I'll think it over"

Jim helps her off the island with strong hands gipping her hips, a raised brow and menacingly seductive smile in place "you and I are could have so much fun together! … but first you need to do daddy a little favor…your name? I'll find it out one way or another… this way you stay pretty"

Doll like hands fiddle with his tie as she smirks, he's so close she could smell him the scent of expensive sweetened aftershave, Vanilla and Ginger lined with the crispness of fabric softener and something twined with copper and musk, something all him "I don't normally… but for the infamous Jim Moriarty? …Kaitlin Meadows"

Taking her hand he lifts the frail killing machine to trace a kiss over each knuckle without taking his eyes off her "pretty name, Kaitlin"

"Thanks Jim" he watches her for a long moment, searching into the flirty smile and mismatched eyes that scream at him, screaming for something the mastermind can't figure out "well I best be off, bombs to build and people to stalk"

Kaitlin pouts lightly before asking "aw, that mean you won't be stalking me anymore? I was just starting to like all those eyes on me"

His feather soft fingers grip her chin and pouts with her "aw, don't fret kitten, I'll still be watching. You are very fun to look at after all"

She stands with a sense of pride before he takes a card from his jacket pocket and slips it onto the island behind her "cheerio little Kaitlin"

"Ta-ta, Jimmy" he walks back to the door before smiling back at the murder. This could definitely be fun

Once he's out of sight Kaitlin notices the contact on the floor, turning to take the card with a little note written

_When I call answer _

_Jim x_

The curved beauty loops the card through her fingers, momentarily wondering how he's got her number before skipping to her room merrily. She slides the card into the side of the mirror before picking up the picture that had caught Jim's eye.

The photo is of a ten year old Kaitlin and her mother's arms wrapped tightly around her, both smiling happily with the Liver Birds in the back ground, the words '_me and mummy'_

Kaitlin all but shines down to the picture "Mum, you're going to be so proud of me… "

Meanwhile as Jim makes his way back the waiting car he texts;

**Kaitlin Meadows, Liverpool, age range 21 to 25. Find me everything. Don't disappoint**

Jim sits smiling to himself, pleased with acquiring a new toy. He only hoped she lived up to the task, I'd be a shame to have to kill such an entertaining distraction


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, this chapter is dedicated to my first reviewer annieleexx**

**thanks everyone for your alerts, favorites and comments.**

**I hope you enjoy **

**JJ x x**

It was a Tuesday; just a normal boring Tuesday, nothing ever really happened on a Tuesday… not normally anyway.

As Kaitlin stands in an abandoned house on the outskirts of London, the place is a dump, dry rot everywhere but she'd seen worse. Today she went for a choppy black wig with brown contact's, they reminded her of Jim's eyes with a luster of blackness to them, her lips ruby red while standing in a black pants suit with ballet flats.

She makes a low humming tone to the song bouncing off the walls from the small radio in the corner as her rubber wrapped hand delicately carves into the supple flesh of a squirming and screeching man tied backward arched over a metal chair.

Crimson smeared and dripping onto the worn and cracked wooden floor whilst two muscle built men flinch back at the brutality and nearer to the sealed door. Kaitlin wasn't one for an audience really; they had a habit of being annoyingly disruptive with their squeamishness. For criminal's they sure are pussies.

Just as the blade makes a fresh cut Kelly Clarkson's Stronger is drown out by the buzzing vibration echoed by a very distinctive ringtone;_** '**__Oh Mickey what a pity you don't understand. You take me by the heart when you take me by the hand. Oh Mickey, you're…'_

Kaitlin looks to the number, she didn't know it but quickly motioned for one of the two guards to lower the radio as she removed her bloody glove and answered "Hello?"

"Well hello Kitten, miss me?" an Irish lilting tone whispers in her ear, a smile brightening her face in the dankly lit room.

Rolling her eyes she spares a glance to the guards and her latest project "Jimmy, I'm working"

She notices the two men share a look of confusion at the girl's softened tone, they had only heard her yell and hum so far "blow it off, come play with me for a bit"

Kaitlin toes the creaking floor with a bite of her lips "I can't, I'm half done… and I'm not about to leave a piece unfinished, that's just sloppy"

"Please, please! I have a family!" the man who was surly bleeding to death begged, not for the first time that day.

He lets out another scream of pain as her flat-heeled foot kicks his throbbing bleeding back and sends the bond victim tumbling over "I'm on the phone, dick! ... sorry about that"

"Some people have no manners. So when will you be done?" he asks sounding almost disappointed

She watches thoughtfully as the two goons replace the sobbing man before answering "give me an hour, I need to change"

"You have forty-five minutes. I'll send a car, tick-tock kitten" with that the burn of the dial tone blooms.

Clicking her phone off with a light giggle she reapplies her blood stained glove with a bounce in her step before pulling the finely cut curls of the sniveling excuse of a man with her fatal fingers, forcing him to look into the brown orbs she'd borrowed for this sculpting session, smiling with a malicious sweetness "it's you're lucky day! You get to die quick…well, quicker"

There wasn't much to go on, he'd looked in every nook and cranny but the name Kaitlin Meadows fell on deaf ears, she was a ghost. For a moment he contemplated that she had lied to him, but that thought quickly passed as he remembered the way the corner of her rose petal lips twitched into an innocent smile her eyes glittering with a menacing familiarity and a touch of wonderment, a challenge. No, she hadn't lied, but something was missing… he had to look deeper, know more!

A grim smile spreads over Jim's face as he sits on in the Victorian marble glazed dwelling of his empire. The house reminded him of the old films his mum used to watch, about women with huge skirts, like pride and prejudice.

But as he gingerly sips his tea Jim hears the slam of doors and the low whistle of his guest as she is led into the pastel blue and silver lined sitting room "well if it isn't my favorite contract killer"

Rolling her eyes as he stands to greet her Kaitlin shrugs "until you get bored…"

"Obviously! And who did you come as today?" he smiles looking over the young girl in front of him, her long chocolate locks blown out with perfected simple makeup bringing attention to her shimmering blue orbs, clad in a pair of studded red ankle boots over black glittered tights, a black lace skater skirt resting high on her hips with a red t-shirt tucked in, gold script with large monogramed letters, SHS, Sunnydale High School, making his eyebrow quirk up.

"Me, of course… You like?" she asks with a twirl of her skirt and a giggle on her angelic face.

With a nod of approval he shrugs "I think it's your best look Kitten, very indie meets girly. I like it"

Kaitlin looks him over, a navy lined black suit with Italian leather shoes, dark hair combed back and to the side. He looked good, he always looked good. The brunette smiles before taking a step, brushing past Jim's shoulder swiftly as she asks, fingers the silver chain hidden under her shirt "so are you going to tell me why the great Jim Moriarty needed little old me?"

"I well that's the thing… I need you to take me shopping." She snaps back, making bouncy curls flying back, slightly baffled.

A tilting smile sits on his face as Kaitlin watches him, takes in everything she can. She didn't ask the usual boring questions like 'why?' or 'what for?' no instead the eager girl smirks "ooh, Jimmy-boy wants to play dress up, but what role is he playing?"

Jim grins as he stroll's closer to her with his hands tucked behind his back, hands that could so easily snap her delicate little neck or caress her flushed cheek… depending on his mood obviously. He knew she was clever, she was mean and flirty and clever and he liked that. He maybe even liked her.

"Gay" he beams like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Kaitlin looks at him for a long moment before smirking, her doll like hand impalpably stained with the blood of many as it glides effortlessly between his coarse fingers that with a single click could blow up the entire Westend. It was like a piece of a puzzle being set into place as sapphires stare into amber glazed ebony "what are we waiting for? Let's go play"

He laughs as she pulls him out of the house. Thinking it all over; Kaitlin Meadows was a new toy, something for him to figure out. Jim liked breaking things; even as a boy his parents would always scold him for breaking his toys, then rebuilding them to his liking. He saw that she was already so broken, broken in the best way, deep in the epicenter of her heart; like him.

Kaitlin drags him to a shop he'd never been into before, hidden in a little backstreet that made you feel like you were about to be mugged any second. Jim gives the brunette a skeptical glare before she leads him inside; the walls were a feature of red bricks with rack on rack of clothes, a small cashers desk with a Victorian till in the far end of the long room facing three stalls covered with floral curtains and a florescent scarlet light over it reading 'Change It Up'

"Miss. Meadows!" from nowhere comes a lean woman in her late forty's, her short hair spiked up to show the black roots of her shock pink hair, black netted shirt over a dark tank top and leather pants with straps and chains hanging between the legs.

He gives the brunette a skeptical glance, before smiling merrily as the stranger marches over to them. He notices the murderess smile at the sight of the elder woman as they embrace and green eyes turn to him "who's the dish?"

"Poppy this is Jim Moriarty, Jim this is Poppy Henley… here you can get everything you need from designer to high street" the pink haired woman smiles to him nodding, looking him over with appreciation.

She turns to look at Kaitlin, her pale lean hand stretched out motioning to the shop "it's all yours sweetie"

Jim looks at the woman as Kaitlin leads the way, pushing through racks and pulling it out outfit after outfit for him. Kaitlin finally pushes him into the changing room, giving wolf whistles as he displays each article of clothing. She watches him, enjoying the attention, twirling around like a kid in a toy shop and he watches her, giggling, happy to play the disguise consultant, watching from the sidelines.

In the end Jim settled on a few different colored v-neck shirts, low-rise jeans, disgustingly colored neon pants he turned his nose up at, trainers that made him laugh with remembrance of a boy who once laughed at him, but it was Jim who laughed last.

He stood smiling beside Poppy, who is texting on her phone as they wait for Kaitlin who had insisted on trying a dress from the window display "how long have you known Kaitlin?"

"Long time" she replies with a tight lipped smile that made him wonder if she knew what the seemingly timid girl did for a living, he bet not.

Poppy walks over to the counter to serve some customers as his tour guide pushes past the moth eaten curtain and twirls out in a red rockabilly dress with a cheeky devil embroidered on the lower left side. It's not the wind red he'd met her in or the bright red she had worn to meet him today, but a deep crimson against her marble flesh, blood red.

Jim can't help but laugh; she looked so innocent even washed over in the color she had spilled so many a times. It amused him.

"Well kitten, don't you look just yummy" he eyeballs her, noticing her smile brighten just a tad with a bounce in her step as she glides past him, stopping to straighten his tie in her little red dress as she speaks "I'm going to wear this out, be a babe and grab my stuff yeah Jimmy"

He watches her wonder over to Poppy at the copper lined table before turning to collect her things, but as he picks up her bag of clothes something crashes to the floor, catching the light as it falls. His dark eyes examine the treasure as nimble fingers knot with the silver chain that was not long ago hung on Kaitlin's neck, hanging there is a well-worn polished silver disc, P.W.P carved beautifully in bold letters against the shimmering disc.

A sickly smirk graces his face as Jim quickly slips the necklace into his pocket before making his way to the till beside the happy little contact killer making her smile up at him as he asks "so, fancy a bite?"

They sit side by side in the town car, bags hailed into the trunk as they turn out through the streets with a laugh at the looks they got. After all it's not every day you see a town car at the McDonalds drive-through. Kaitlin lobs chips in her mouth while kicking of her boots to curl her legs under her; Jim can't help but laugh at her wide-eyed expression.

"What?" she giggles with a gulp of her milkshake and making a loud slurping sounds.

Jim just shrugs while he picks at his chips "you're very unconventional Kaitlin. Almost like a child."

Standing on her knees she leans into him with a bright smile "and? why would I ever grow up? Grown up's are boring. Growing up is just a trap."

He watches her for a long moment as she continues to tuck into her meal "what type of trap is that then?"

Kaitlin rolls her diamond cut eyes before stating, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world "believing your one of the crowd long enough to become blended in. Kids don't blend in, they scream, run, laugh and climb!"

Jim watches her with a raised brow and awed amber glazed eyes as she leans back and points with her chip "you'll never find a boring kid, Jimmy."

He laughs jauntily at that comment, because she actually had a point.

As the car stops, the door is opened for her, the well suited thug slash driver holding her bags patiently. Her brazen blue gems smile up at him as she nods "I had fun Jimmy, next time give me time to kill the guy before you call"

"No promises Kitten" Jim smiles back at her with his enthralling crooked smirk before Kaitlin leans in close, supple lips brushing to place a ghost of a kiss on his soft cheek, hand on his neck with an almost bruising grip as her nose nuzzles into his warm flesh, eyes meeting and breath mixing "laters Jimmy"

"Farewell Kitty-cat" They share one last mocking smirk as the brunette climbs out of the car, vanishing from his sight.

Kaitlin stands on the street corner for a long moment watching the car shrink into the distance before humming gaily to herself and skipping into her flat. She kicks her door shut with her red booted foot as the stereo roars to life as Kaitlin makes her way to her bedroom to put away her things and change out of her new dress, no need to crease it now.

However as her hand routinely glides along her bare throat Kaitlin's eyes widen before rushing to her bag and emptying it on the bed in panic. Frantic hands search endlessly but to no avail "no, no, no, no! Where is it?"

Her playful shell is ripped away as her hands claw through her scalp; eyes wide as she thinks over the day before they fall to her side and she races to the phone on her dresser and dialing with rushed and raged breath until she hears the bleep of the message tone "clever Jim, very sneaky. I'm almost proud… slightly disappointed in myself, silly me… If I don't get back my necklace I am going to gut you and wear your ribcage as a _fucking hat_! …Ok? Talk later, kisses."

Hanging up she stand for a second, a long drawn-out second before smashing the phone into a million pieces by throwing it to the castle painted wall, breaking into a frenzy as she smashes up her dresser and grabs the nearest blade, shattering the mirror as it stands in the center of the frame. Kaitlin sighs before crumbling to her knees, head buried in her trembling hands as she kicks at the fallen chair "_Fuck_!"

Meanwhile Jim laughs at the message his little pet had let him, dangling the necklace from his fingers as his laptop jumps to life with new information after scanning the net for a P.W.P in Liverpool.

A Cheshire cat grin twitches at his lips as an article pops up with an noteworthy picture of a young girl, her eyes unmistakable even in black and white, flung over the back of a teenage boy, he's lean with light ruffled hair, with her arms locked around his neck as they smile dazzlingly, carefree. The title at the top of the page and the small caption already telling him so much about the woman he'd spent the day with;

'**BOY DIES SAVING SISTER!' **

'Peter Wayne Phillips (above) aged seventeen gave his life for his treasured sister Kaitlin Mae Phillips (above) aged seven'

Jim's smile widens as he scans over the page "Well, hello Kaitlin Mae Phillips… let's play a game"


End file.
